Valenna’s mind foundered in murky grief and anxiety.
What if Marwenna didn’t—or worse, couldn’t—revive him? What if she did, and she tortured him to madness, and he spent his days cursing Valenna for betraying her promise? Either way, how would she find him again?
Huddled in the lean-to the Cobblepinions had hastily built for her, the questions blurred together into a cacophony of panicked noise. Valenna clamped her hands over her ears and touched her forehead to her knees.
Evander was gone, and there was no air in this place. Her lungs were folding up like shutters.
As the sun rose over Talwaith, Valenna found herself on the ground. The bed was covered in flowering vines, the floor acarpet of moss, and Valenna lay in the center of it all, her hair tangled in leaves and her body dressed in belladonna and bindweed. Mushrooms encircled her head like a halo.
Samara entered. Her nose was red and swollen. Valenna remained where she lay, the effort of sitting up too much to entertain.
Samara didn’t say a word as she laid a folded shirt on the ground.
“It saved my life,” she said. “He saved my life. He was the best captain we could have asked for. We didn’t deserve him.”
Valenna reached out and brushed the fabric with her fingers. Evander’s shirt. The one he promised he’d wear and, if he had, he would be here with her now, alive and well.
“So you are why he wasn’t wearing it?” she asked softly.
“I begged him to keep it,” Samara choked. “But he insisted. I thought he would be alright.”
Valenna stroked the fabric, her eyelids fluttering. The enchantment tickled her fingertips like static electricity. Suddenly, she couldn’t stand the sight of Samara. Afraid she might do something violent, she said, “Get out.”
But Samara didn’t leave. She stood in the entrance, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“There’s something else,” she said. “There is someone here to see you. She says she’s your sister.”
Valenna’s mind tottered. Nothing made sense.
Before Valenna could understand, someone entered behind Samara, and Valenna’s jaw went slack.
Standing before her, dressed in a faded leather coat and mud-spattered boots, was Olivette. Her half-sister.
Olivette looked different—much older than Valenna remembered her. Her white-blonde hair was short and streaked with cobalt. She gazed at Valenna with a somber expression.
“Vetta?” Valenna breathed.
“Valeria, what are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” Valenna cried. “Where were you during the battle?”
“Oh, well, since Father wouldn’t have me back, I decided I would wait and see how it all turned out. I am the heir to the throne now, of course. But what is all of this? Did you find your spring magic, after all?”
Valenna pushed herself up. “I was in the battle.”
“Yes, I heard. Now, come and welcome your sister home.” Olivette crouched on her knees and wrapped Valenna in her muscular arms. She was a large woman with broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Valenna had forgotten how comforting it was to be swallowed up in her sister’s rare embraces.
“Valeria, I have been searching for you for years.”
“No, no,” Valenna said, releasing Olivette and wiping her eyes. “I have been searching for you.”
“I tracked you to Largotia,” Olivette continued, “but you slipped away. They said you went to Silvanlight, but when I reached there, you were already gone.”
“When were you in Largotia?”
“Only a few weeks ago. I pretended to be the emissary from Sennalaith, bringing Cadmus’s order to the dracorium there, but you left before I could speak to you.”
Valenna started back. “That was you? I ran from Largotia because … because I was afraid to speak to the emissary. It was you all along?”
